First Everything, page 1
First Everything
Olivia T. Turner
Contents
Copyright
About First Everything
Become Obsessed with OTT
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Epilogue
Epilogue
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Sun, Sand, and Seduction
Copyright© 2019 by Olivia T. Turner.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including emailing, photocopying, printing, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. For permission requests, email Olivia@oliviatturner.com
Please respect the author’s hard work and purchase a copy. Thanks!
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, businesses, companies, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Contains explicit love scenes and adult language.
18+
www.OliviaTTurner.com
Edited by Karen Collins Editing
Cover Design by Olivia T. Turner
About First Everything
I’m at that kind of rough party you wouldn’t want to see your daughter at.
That’s when I see her.
A cute little rich girl who’s found herself on the wrong side of the tracks.
I know immediately that she doesn’t belong here and it sends a protective streak surging through me.
She reminds me of a chipmunk. Just as small, adorable, and helpless.
These guys will eat her alive.
I want to go over there, pick her up, and take her away from this place.
I want to lock her in my room where it’s safe.
Where only I can lay eyes on those soft tender curves.
But I can’t move.
I’ve never been like this… so, paralyzed in the presence of a girl. Utterly helpless in my feelings for her.
But when I see another man touch her, something in me snaps.
My civility is gone. Hundreds of years of human progress, culture, and civilization are wiped out with a single touch.
I’m back in the dark ages. I’m primal. Barbaric.
I’m a goddamn caveman about to beat the life out of a rival mate who dared to step into my territory.
The touch breaks me. The restraints of society crack and fall to the floor.
I’m free to defend and take what’s mine.
And most importantly, I’m free to claim her as my own.
After one look at his girl, Colton shows just how much of an Over-The-Top possessive alpha he really is. SAFE, no cheating, and a sweet HEA that will have you grinning and blushing! Enjoy!
Become Obsessed with OTT
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OBSESSED
By Olivia T. Turner
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When I look out my office window and see her in the next building, I know I have to have her.
I buy the whole damn company she works for just to be near her.
She’s going to be in my office working under me.
Under, over, sideways—we’re going to be working together in every position.
This young innocent girl is going to find out that I work my employees hard.
And that her new rich CEO is already beyond obsessed with her.
This dominant and powerful CEO will have you begging for overtime! Is it just me or is there nothing better than a hot muscular alpha in a suit and tie!
All my books are SAFE with zero cheating and a guaranteed sweet HEA. Enjoy!
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To the tattooed bad boy on a bike
And the shy good girl he likes
To opposites attract,
Long stares and heated eye contact
To love in unlikely places,
Racing hearts and hot blushing faces
To those who believe love will find a way
No matter the obstacles of the day
To all those who know it’s true
This little romantic book is for you
#ThisIsWhyPeopleDontPayMeForPoems
Chapter One
Mackenzie
“Is that a crack whore?”
“Oh, yeah,” Joy says, leaning over me and staring out the window for way too long.
“Watch the road,” I say, grabbing the wheel before she hits a homeless man. They’re everywhere. I never realized there was such a homeless problem in our city. I feel so bad for them that it almost brings tears to my eyes.
“Look at that guy!” Joy points as she squeals out a laugh. “He’s got pink pants on!”
Apparently, Joy is not as moved.
“Where is this party?” I ask, sinking down in the leather seat of Joy’s Lexus and hiding my head. This car is way too luxurious for this part of town. I feel like the cruel nobility being carried through the town, being gawked at by the peasants in a modern-day Game of Thrones. Joy doesn’t care. She plays the queen perfectly as she rolls the window down and throws out her cigarette. Here’s a little more trash for your garbage infested home, suckers.
“Don’t be such a Mackenzie, Mackenzie,” she says with a smirk.
I bite my bottom lip and swallow a reply as I turn toward the window and look up at the starless night sky. I’m such a buzzkill that Joy felt the need to invent a word inspired after my name. If you look up Mackenzie in Joy’s dictionary you will find the definition of a Mackenzie scribbled in the margins: A Mackenzie (noun.) A nervous, uptight girl who always insists on stomping the life out of a party.
A group of sketchy young men are standing on the corner staring at us as we pull up to the stop sign. They look like actors auditioning for the role of ‘after’ in a before and after, anti-drug commercial.
Joy waves to them and laughs as she revs the engine and speeds away. I glance back over my shoulder at them through the rearview window. One of them is in the middle of the road, grabbing his crotch and yelling something at us. Classy.
“Can we please just go home?” I ask as I grip my safety-belt. Unfortunately, it won’t keep me safe from everything. Especially not Joy’s bad decisions.
“You owe me,” Joy says.
“For what?”
“I went to that lame party last month at the yacht club for you.”
“That was a fundraiser for a dog shelter,” I say as I play with the hem of my skirt. “You’re taking me to a gang rape from the looks of it.”
“Will you stop?” she asks. “It’s going to be fun. Here take one of these.” She grabs her purse from beside my feet and rummages through it with both hands. She balances the wheel with her knees as her eyes are focused in her Chanel purse. I close my eyes and pray to every God out there.
When I open my eyes, her hand is outstretched in front of me with a tiny white pill sitting in her palm.
“Drugs?” I ask, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. Apparently, she missed the real-life anti-drug ad that we just passed at the last stop sign.
“It’s prescription,” she says. “My mom gave them to me. It takes the edge off.”
“I like my edge.”
“Nobody likes your edge,” Joys says, palming her mouth and making the pill disappear.
I guess I’m driving home.
“Just relax,” she says. “There’s going to be tons of hot guys there. Brad has some really hot friends.”
Brad is Joy’s taste of the week. I swear she’s subscribed to a delivery service or something but instead of fruit baskets, she gets hot muscular guys. Every Tuesday a new guy gets delivered. Throw him in the trash on Monday night because a new one will arrive Tuesday morning!
“Who is Brad again?” I ask.
She huffs and shakes her head at me. Her long blond curls bounce around like tiny Slinkies. “The guy from work. I told you about him.”
Probably. But it would be a full-time job keeping track of all of Joy’s conquests and I’m not up for the task. Probably because it reminds me of the fact that I haven’t conquested anything. If we were Roman generals, Joy would have all of Europe and I wouldn’t even have my backyard.
“I thought you got fired,” I say.
Joy rolls her eyes and squeezes the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles turn white. I guess the pill hasn’t kicked in yet.
“They’re so stupid,” she hisses. “They just suspended me. If they let me run the place, I would quadruple their revenue.”
“Well, they are Starbucks,” I say. “I think they’re doing pretty well.”
“They’re all idiots.”
Joy’s very rich father was a self-made man who created a software company out of his seventeen-year-old brain and turned it into a multi-million dollar corporation. He wanted to give Joy the benefits of all of his hard work but at the same time instilling her with a work ethic that would help her build character. His compromise: he pays her credit cards and agreed to buy her a brand new Lexus if she holds down a job. It was an interesting way to approach it and one that doesn’t s
Joy thumbs her phone, bringing up Google Maps. The blue screen spotlights her face. She is so pretty. She’s wearing a tiny, black dress, her breasts popping out of the low cut of the fabric. Those breasts attract so much attention that sometimes they feel like a separate entity. Sometimes I think it’s what it must feel like to hang out with a celebrity.
I glance down at my purple shirt with my new skirt and feel butterflies in my stomach. I should have worn the black shirt. The black shirt makes me look like I have a bit of boobs rather than the mosquito bites that I’m currently rocking.
“It’s just up ahead,” Joy says, tossing her phone back to her purse but hitting my foot instead. Well, the pill has kicked in.
The butterflies in my stomach are now in overdrive as I look at the small rundown houses, sandwiched together on tiny lots. There are people everywhere, sitting on stoops and talking on lawns. You won’t see that on my street. Every gated mansion is separated by a golf course-sized lawn. The owners only see their front lawns when they’re driving past them into their underground garages.
“Right there,” Joy says, pointing at the gray house with half the neighborhood on the front lawn. I gulp as she pulls up to the curb across the street.
Maybe I’ll wait in the car.
I’d much rather be at home in my pajamas, balls deep in a good book but I’m constantly feeling pressure to go out and enjoy my partying years. Every commercial, ad, movie, and show has hot eighteen-year-olds partying and having fun but whenever I’m in that situation I just get anxious and feel more of an outsider than I usually do.
Joy steps out of the car and smooths out her dress while I try to gain the courage to open the door.
“Let’s go, Mackenzie,” she says as she leans down into the car. My eyes zero in on her massive cleavage as she bends over.
“Screw it,” I mouth as I open the door.
But I nearly crawl back into the passenger’s seat when I see everybody on the front lawn staring at the hot blond in the nice car with her frumpy friend.
Joy senses my hesitation and runs over, her heels clickity clacking on the pavement, and grabs my wrist.
“I’ll stay with you the whole time,” she promises.
I’ve heard that before.
The crowd parts for Joy as she walks up to the front door with her chin in the air like she owns the place. She’s dragging me behind her. I nod and smile awkwardly at all of the people looking at me while we all wonder what the fuck I’m doing here.
The music inside is loud. And horrible. It feels like the music playing in Clockwork Orange when the guy is getting tortured, only with a lot more swear words. The furniture is cheap and broken and the lights on the ceiling are missing fixtures—the bare bulbs are blindingly bright. It looks like the interior designer was a crackhead.
There are more people inside than outside. They’re drinking cheap beer and whiskey straight from the bottle.
Needless to say, I don’t like it here.
“Brad!” Joy screams as she wraps her arms around a muscular guy with a nice smile. He is one of Joy’s hotter conquests and now I understand why she dragged me all the way down here.
“This is my friend, Mackenzie,” she says over the loud music.
Brad nods quickly at me and then begins kissing Joy’s neck.
“Nice to meet you too,” I say as I fidget with my hands.
I try to blend into the peeling wallpaper as I pull out my phone and stare at the screen, wishing that I could crawl inside it.
Getting crazy at a sick party with Joy! I post on my Facebook wall. Because that’s what people my age do: stand around awkwardly at parties and post how awesome it is on social media.
I hold my breath and look up and there is a sketchy-looking guy with long greasy black hair on the other side of the room staring at me. He is tall and muscular, not in the hard, airbrushed way that Brad is, but more of an ‘I work in construction all day, but drink beer all night’ kind of muscular. His nose is crooked, like it was broken and never fixed. He smiles at me and he has the missing tooth to match.
I smile awkwardly and look back down at my phone as my cheeks get hot. One like on my Facebook post. Thanks, Grandma.
“Can you get us some beers?” Joy asks, gasping for air as she pulls away from Brad’s mouth. His hands are squeezing her ass.
I almost answer that she shouldn’t be mixing alcohol with that pill that she took in the car, but she’s back to tasting Brad’s throat.
I take a deep breath and then head to the keg sitting on the dining room table. There are red cups full of flat beer and who knows what else, pre-poured beside it for anyone to take. A new party game? Roofie Roulette.
No thanks.
I grab three empty red cups. One for Joy, one for Brad, and one for the third wheel, and spray the little beer gun into the first cup. It fills with foam.
I glance around, looking for the keg attendee or something when I glimpse a guy in the kitchen who makes my breath catch. He’s leaning against the refrigerator as a skanky-looking girl in a white crop top tries to chat him up. He’s looking a little disinterested even though she looks like she’s practically throwing herself at him.
And I can see why. He’s taller than the refrigerator and his chest looks just as wide. My heart starts thumping a little faster as I shamelessly gawk at him from the dining room. His dirty blond hair is a little long and messy, but holy crap it looks good on him.
You don’t see guys like him where I’m from. He’s covered in tattoos from his fingers all the way up to his neck. I’m glad the tattoo artist spared his face, because it’s already pure perfection. Just the right length of stubble on his thick masculine jaw, a nose that’s just so utterly kissable, and bright blue eyes that will make you think you’re having a holy experience.
All I can do is stare in awe as I overfill the cup, spilling foam and cheap beer all over my shoes. Darn it!
I fill another cup full of delicious beer foam as I steal another peek at him. Dozens of questions are flooding my mind. I want to know everything about him, but there’s no way I’m brave enough to go over there and ask. No way.
Guys like him don’t go out with girls like me. We’re from different parts of the city. We might as well be from different planets. I’m sure we have nothing in common, and even if we did, he is way out of my league.
But still, I can’t stop willing him to look over here.
I should have worn the black shirt.
A cold hand touches mine and I nearly jump out of my skin. My head whips around and there is Mr. Creepy McCracked Nose in my personal space. He smiles and it feels as warming as a cold shower.
“Hi, beautiful.” His voice washes over me like a swarm of spiders.
I back away and bump into the couch. He smiles, showing off his missing front tooth.
“What’s your name?”
I glance over at Joy, wanting to get her to save me but she is pressed against the wall with her eyes closed as Brad does things to her that shouldn’t be done in public. His hands are gripped on her breasts while he kisses her neck. At least her dress is still on.
“What’s your name, little lady?” he asks again.
“Mackenzie,” I squeak.
“I’m Scorpion,” he says while pulling down his shirt collar to show his palm-sized, neck tattoo of a mean-looking scorpion.
I wonder if he got the tattoo because of his name or got his name because of his tattoo, but I’m not curious enough to ask. I just want to get the fuck away from this future convict.
I glance back at Joy and she’s gone. My chest tightens. I’m stuck here now. With Scorpion.
